Catch Your Breath . . .
by JodiMelville
Summary: A Ren & Twitty shippiness story. Sorry for the intense sappiness, guys! It's only rated PG right now, but it might change as subsequent chapters are added.
1. Default Chapter

AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's a rough draft, but I figured I could get it down on paper. Please R&R, no flames – constructive criticism only! You can disagree with me, but do it respectfully, please. Thanks for all your comments on my first story (the Larry/Ren shipper fic, which I will add more to as soon as finals are over) – let me know what you think of the second one.  
  
  
  
Ren settled down on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and one of her favorite videos. She hadn't been able to take a moment for herself in some time, but now with her parents visiting relatives, Donny at the gym, and Louis – well, who knew where Louis was. Probably off with Twitty pulling some sort of random prank on an unsuspecting victim. Where ever he was, he was out of her hair, and it was time for some deep relaxation . . .  
  
. . . Which is why the doorbell was ringing?! She tried to ignore it, but whoever it was didn't get the hint. One ring after another sounded through the empty house as she persistently tried to keep her focus from the incessant sound. It wasn't working. Exasperated, Ren threw down the remote and stomped over to the entryway, ready to give the visitor a piece of her mind. Flinging the door open, she set her glare to maximum.  
  
Twitty stood on the front step looking toward the street. She glanced past him, searching for Louis but couldn't directly see him. Raising an eyebrow as he turned to face her, she curtly questioned, "What do you want?"  
  
A bit surprised at her reception, he recovered quickly and replied, "Oh, I was just looking for Louis – is he around?"  
  
She narrowed her eyes, trying to find the joke in all of this as Twitty looked past her into the house. Not only were they ruining the only afternoon that she'd had free in months, they thought it was funny. Well, she wouldn't stand for that. Calling him on his joke, she spat, "Oh, I don't know, Twitty. Why don't you tell me where he is? You two are as thick as thieves, aren't you?"  
  
Confused, he tried to reply. "Well, I guess, but I thought that I was supposed to meet him here–"  
  
"Well, you thought wrong, didn't you?" Ren cut him off. "Here I am, trying to have a peaceful afternoon and all you two can think of to do with your pathetic little minds is bother me! Do you know how LONG it's been since I . . ." She slowly trailed off, noticing the pure bewilderment that was painted on his face. For a minute she doubted, still believing it was a trick, but her conscious got the better of her, and she realized how entirely rude she was being; he didn't deserve this tongue-lashing. "Oh my God, Twitty," she breathed in apology. "I am SO sorry. I didn't think that – well, look," she suggested, "why don't you come in and wait? I'm sure Louis'll be back soon."  
  
Twitty glanced at her uncertainly, wondering if she was going to start lecturing him again. She read his thoughts and tried to reassure him. "Twitty," she said deeply, "I really am sorry. I didn't know. Why don't you just come in, and . . . you can watch my movie with me –" she stepped back as he brushed past her into the living room. "Or wait in Louis's room or . . ." She shook her head and smiled. As soon as he heard the title of the movie, he'd be playing video games in Louis's room within the nanosecond, and she would be alone again, ready to relax.  
  
"So, what are we watching?" Twitty stood in the middle of the room, rubbing his hands together in mock anticipation. Ren walked over to the couch, picked up the video case, and tossed it to him. "Gone with the Wind?" She hid a smile, almost sensing the disappointment in his voice. "Cool!" he exclaimed, contrary to what she had though he would do. "My mom has this movie; she watches it all the time."  
  
"Oookay . . ." Ren shook her head, befuddled, watching as Alan took over her couch, her popcorn, and her movie. Plopping down beside him, she hit the play button and tried her best to sink into the movie . . .  
  
Two and a half hours later, Twitty was still hording her popcorn and talking loudly to the characters on the screen. Sighing, she glanced over at him, wondering where her brother was. 'Wow,' she thought to herself, 'I never thought I'd be counting the minutes until I could see Louis again.' She smiled at the thought, looking again in Alan's direction. He noticed, peeking over at her through the corners of his eyes. Gulping down his mouthful of popcorn with a sip of soda, he wondered if she wanted to actually discuss the movie while watching it. He knew Ren was weird like that, very intellectual and stuff.  
  
Clearing his throat, he attempted to make small talk. "Scarlett has such a strong character, you know?" He looked over at her, hoping she wouldn't verbally lash out at him again. Instead of an onslaught of insults, she seemed mildly shocked, so he continued. "It's interesting how they contrasted her with Melly." He nervously stuffed another handful of popcorn in his mouth to stop himself from saying anything further. To Twitty, Ren seemed perfect; she had a characteristic that sometimes made him feel small and inconsequential.  
  
She was amazed at his insight. That a friend of Louis's could have much to say about anything (other than Tawny, of course), well, it impressed her. Gathering her thoughts, she replied quickly, "Yeah, you're right." Pausing, she tried to come up with a more detailed response. "It's as though they're telling the audience that if you're a woman you must be strong and use sex as a weapon or be soft and let men dominate you. There doesn't seem to be much middle ground." She felt as though she was babbling, so she turned the conversation back to him, "What do you think?"  
  
"Well," he began, "I think that it might have been the case back then, but today, women can be both forceful and soft. You've seemed to achieve that balance, anyway." He shrugged, feeling as though he'd revealed something, but wasn't quite sure what. Shifting into a different position on the couch, he risked a swift glance in her direction.  
  
Ren sat slightly open-mouthed, completely taken back by his words. That was, by far, the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her. Sure, her parents constantly told her that they were proud of her, but it was so often that their response seemed automatic and held no actual feeling for her. On the other hand, this boy didn't have to say anything nice or charming to her, yet he did. She didn't know what to say or if she should even say anything, yet she felt compelled to respond. "Twitty, I – well, what I mean is – that was probably the sweetest thing you've ever said to me."  
  
"Yeah, well," he shrugged again, taking another chug of his soda. Feeling her eyes on him, he turned his head toward her. Everything about her was so perfect: the way her hair fell around her, her manicured nails, even the mistiness of her almost-tears glittering in her eyes. He gazed up at her face, feeling like a complete moron. Suddenly, he had an urge to touch her, to feel her silky hair in his fingers. Reaching out, he ran his hand across the smooth locks, drawing her closer to him.  
  
The heat of Twitty's breath on Ren's lips sent a shiver down her spine. Longing for him to make the next move, she tried not to think of how they were connected, how he was younger than she was, how he was her brother's best friend. Ren didn't want to realize these things right now; she just wanted to feel the sweat of his palms on her cool shoulders as he caressed her skin. She closed her eyes, giving into the sensations, finding his lips, tasting them, touching them, his teeth grinding against hers in inexperience. His mouth was moist, slipping over her own. Pulling away, she sighed his name, but upon hearing her voice, all the things she fought to avoid came rushing back to her. She mentally put up a wall against her emotions, her body stiffening in response. Twitty felt this change and loosened his grasp on her, tenderly kissing her lower lip.  
  
"Twitty," Ren began more evenly than she felt, "I don't know what . . ." She paused, grasping for some sort of control amidst the confusion inside of her. "Twitty, I think you should probably leave now." She raised her eyes to his.  
  
He understood why she was asking him to go, yet he still felt vastly disappointed, not with her but with himself. Confused, he searched her face for some sort of sign that would tell him what he did wrong or if he was out of line. He saw nothing in the gentle curve of her lips that would give him any clue as to what his reaction should be. He looked away, giving a soft "okay," in reply.  
  
She sat on the couch as he walked around her and out the front door. She forced herself not to watch him go, not to follow him, not to ask him to come back. Hearing the door shut behind him, she got up and walked over to the front entrance. She paused, resting her hand against the doorknob. Turning her back to the door, she let herself slide down to the ground, gripping her knees to her chest. She still had the taste of him on her lips, root beer and popcorn. Leaning her head against her hands, she began to devise a strategy to forget about the afternoon. She hoped it would be easy to follow . . .  
  
  
  
DO YOU WANT MORE? Like Ren and Twitty as a couple? R&R or email me! 


	2. The Park

The following Monday, Ren made her way through the school, trying not to concentrate on the uncertainty she had felt all weekend long. She had logically reduced the kiss into its pros and cons, and after viewing the consequences that would come from either decision, she decided to write it off as a fluke and nothing more. Yet she still couldn't erase the touch of his hands grasping her hair, pulling her to his mouth . . .  
Shaking her head, she glanced down the hall for her brother. She needed to talk to him about Donny's birthday before she went to class. Louis was at his locker, and Twitty leaned beside him, listening. Flustered, Ren choose to stop at her own locker and in order to recompose herself before going to talk to her little brother. Twitty - she'd been able to ignore him when he wasn't around; this would be harder than she thought. 'Just make it through today, Ren,' she thought to herself. 'After today, it will be easier . . . I hope.' Sighing, Ren twisted the combination lock, focusing on the day ahead.  
Twitty gazed down the hall as Ren's thin fingers played with the dial on her locker. He'd spent the entire weekend locked in his room remembering those fingers as they caressed his lips around, between and even in their kiss. Even during his most randy daydreams, he couldn't reproduce that soft touch of exploration. As he thought of it now, his body temperature grew warm sending erotic chills down his spine. He watched her hair curl against her neck, softly brushing against her skin; her lips were slightly parted in concentration as she arranged the books in her locker. He wanted to look away, but he wasn't able to pull himself from the vision at the end of the hallway. Suddenly, fingers snapped in front of his eyes.  
"Dude," Louis's voice cut through his daydream. "You weren't just 'gazing' at my sister, were you? Because," Louis paused to shudder, "that's really freaky, man."  
Twitty shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts away as Tawny chastised Louis about the importance of having respect for others' privacy. "Ren?" he questioned back, unbelievable astonishment masking his voice. "Dude, but it looks like she's coming over here." And she was, at that. Mixed with anxiety and relief, Twitty leaned against the locker, forcing his frame into natural body expressions as Ren moved closer to him.  
"Louis," Ren's voice called. "I was wondering if you'd had any more ideas for Donny's birthday?" She involuntarily felt her eyes glance at Twitty. He was leaning against the locker, staring straight ahead at nothing. Slightly disappointed but calmer, she turned back to Louis, who was answering her - telling her something he'd come up with. She nodded, hearing nothing. All her attention was focused on her little brother's best friend. Her body tense, she stiffly replied, "Well, that should be fine, then." Smiling, she nodded to her brother and each of his friends. "Tawny." Tawny smiled at her. "Louis." Her brother saluted her, making her grimace. "Twitty." She had to admit, his name came out a bit harsher than she had expected, but she moved on. Even past the forlorn look in his eyes; she needed to go to class and logically assess the situation once again.  
Twitty watched Ren walk down the hall, her hips swaying as she made her way through the mob population of their classmates. He made his excuses to Louis and Tawny then hurried off to his next class. Her voice had sounded so unforgiving to him that he knew all his fantasies were mistaken. He thought she had kissed him back, he KNEW she had! But she'd seemed to dispel that myth with a warning tone of voice. He should apologize, he should, but he didn't know how or where to start. His mind was occupied continuously through the day, so when the final bell rang, he was stupefied as to how all the hours had passed. He needed to talk to Ren, and after the halls had emptied, he made his way to the student journalism room where he knew he could find her.  
Ren rubbed her neck as she edited the layout for this week's school paper. Her shoulder was starting to cramp, but she was almost done. She checked her watch briefly. 'Fifteen minutes, and I should be out of here,' she thought, heightening the pace of her tasks.  
Twitty stood in the doorway, not wanting to disturb her concentration but needing to let her know he was there. He watched as she rubbed her neck, sighing and checking her watch as she did so. Her own hands upon herself made him recall the feel of her skin. He wanted to touch her, to feel how smooth she was, but he knew it was not possible right now. Instead, he announced his presence by clearing his throat and waited for her to turn around.  
A bit surprised, Ren swung around in her chair to see who was behind her. Her breath caught as Twitty came into focus. He stood in the doorway, his hands tiredly clenched in his pockets. She smiled in a form of greeting, but didn't dare trust her own voice to speak. She didn't have to worry; his words silenced all thought in her brain: "Can I talk to you?"  
"Sure!" She exclaimed a bit too readily. She was going to offer him a seat, but her responsibility kicked in. "Um, I need to finish the paper right now," she watched his face drop and knew she owed him much better than a simple glossing of the details. She quickly continued, "But how about if we talk right after? It should only be another 15 minutes or so, I think."  
He nodded, his face troubled, his eyes on his feet. She smiled and started to turn back to face the computer again when he spoke. "Could I . . ." he faltered for a moment, but regained, "Could I maybe walk you home?"  
Completely off guard at this request, she consented and watched as he walked from the doorway. Turning back, she began to work again. 'Responsible?' she questioned in her thoughts. 'Or just plain unsure and frightened? Nice, Ren, really nice.' She shrugged off her own disillusionment and concentrated on the paper.  
Twitty sat on the front steps of the school waiting for Ren to emerge. She had been nice; he couldn't tell if it was a good or bad sign. A cool breeze made his palms clammy, and he rubbed them against his pants. He sat there, lost in his thoughts enjoying the afternoon. He wanted to plan what he was going to say, but he couldn't concentrate on any one thing in particular. Feeling a touch on his shoulder, he turned his head upward and saw Ren's face peering down at him, encircled in a halo of sun and hair. She was apologizing for taking so long, but all he cared about was that she was here now, even though he still did not know where to begin. Standing up, he walked forward, hoping that she'd understand to follow. He wasn't sure of himself enough to speak. Nervousness welled in the back of his throat, and he moved silently to regain control.  
Lost in her own thoughts, Ren didn't catch this silence, but rather accepted it as a moment to reflect upon the situation, puzzling over what Twitty could possibly have to say to her. They walked quietly along in the autumn sun, occasionally stealing glances at one another through lowered eyes. It was Twitty who finally summoned the courage to break the unbearably uncomfortable silence.  
"Look, Ren," he began, stumbling nervously over the words, "about the other day . . . uh." He paused in his speech, trying to remember what he had rehearsed. His pace slowed as the elegance of his prepared words escaped him and only one line bounced about in his brain. He shrugged in defeat and simply muttered, "I'm sorry for what I did to you."  
Ren, who had been slowing her pace to match Twitty's, stopped in astonishment at his apology. She had already deduced that it may have been the reason for the walk, but hearing it still made her catch her breath in nervousness. She had to speak. "Twitty," she said, turning to face him, "you don't need to apologize. Apologies would be for something bad; the other day . . . that was . . . nice."  
He had desperately been avoiding her eyes, afraid of the rejection she was able to impale him with at that moment. Yet, she didn't do what he expected. He looked at her sharply to see if she was kidding, if she was pulling some sort of a prank on him, but she was smiling brightly. He gulped silently and questioned, "Really?"  
"Yeah," she answered simply with a tender grin.  
And she continued to talk. And he tried to listen, but all he could see was her. He knew what she was saying, he could catch snippets about Louis and her friends, but he didn't care. She thought his kiss was nice. That was definitely an improvement from what he thought; a grin slowly slid upon his face as he watched her. He tried to listen to her, but he couldn't concentrate. All he could see were her lips - shiny and beautiful, tasting of her lip gloss. He was swiftly becoming overwhelmed with what those lips could do. He needed to taste her, and his control was gradually slipping.  
He tried to look mostly at the ground as she talked, silently nodding in agreement, but his eyes kept reverting to her mouth. When she paused in her speech to whet her lips, that moist, pink tongue sliding around the tender flesh made something inside of him snap. He grabbed her by the shoulders, pushing her up against a nearby tree. Looking deeply at her, he saw the confusion mixed with a bit of fear splayed across her face. He wanted to assure her, to let her know that he wouldn't hurt her, but his urges were overwhelming him. Lips locked upon lips as he devoured her sweetness. He pressed his body up against her, wanting to be close to her, to feel her movements as he clung to her. And for a brief moment, he was in heaven.  
Yet, as he pressed to her, as his hands weaved through her hair, he felt something that made him freeze in mid-kiss. He was hardening . . . down there. And he was so close to her . . .  
He ripped himself away from Ren's touch; she was too close - she probably felt it. Embarrassment set into his features, as he slowly backed away from her as though she were holding a bomb. The look of her wasn't helping his situation either: her flushed features, her hair in disarray, her kiss-bruised lips. God, just the sight of her! So, he turned and he ran, leaving an astonished Ren braced against a tree in the park wondering what had happened . . . and an embarrassed Twitty praying that she was unaware of his dirty boy-like urges. 


End file.
